Just thought I'd share a few photographs from two winters ago. It snowed all December, which is not too common. It usually comes a little later, normally around February. One of my favourite Christmas memories was made on 24th December that year, as I sat before the bay window in my cosy, rustic living room with the log fire burning, just watching the snow fall and knowing that when I woke up tomorrow on Christmas morning, the ground would be blanketed white. I'm hoping for a similar snowfall this year!
I recall (with a fondness quite mismatched, given that it made me terribly ill) it snowing so heavy one day that my parents and I had to abandon the car and trek all the way home in very deep snow. My parents took refuge in a pub on the way for a drink to warm their bellies, but I went off by myself the rest of they way, and I remember it making me feel very, very Christmassy. The photographs above were taken just after I got back.
The top two were taken in my back garden - the pumpkin was still there, rotting away, from when I had carved it at Halloween. The bottom two were in my front garden.
I wish people would let me make my own decisions. I want to live my own life. I've felt so suffocated recently because every time I state a wish to do something that would actually make me happy, I'm shot down and told to do something that will make my family happy instead, namely my Dad. I'm not decided on what I want to do as a career, but whenever I mention something I'd quite like to do, something I'm passionate about, it's not good enough. It doesn't pay enough, apparently. Better to be rich and miserable. Whenever he phones and asks me whether I'm going out tonight, I say no. I don't like clubs. I don't like the music they play, or the idiots that tend to frequent them. I'll only be unhappy if I go to them, and why be unhappy? He won't accept that though, and tells me I need to go out more, in a disappointed tone I might add. Why should I? My life is my own to lead.
It's not like I'm not seeing people; I went shopping with a friend yesterday, and tomorrow I'm watching movies with another. I just don't want to go out and thrash around to some crappy Rihanna remix which was shit enough in it's original form. And even if I didn't hang out with others, again, why should I if I don't wish to? Introversion is not a disease, it's a biologically predisposed factor in a person's personality. I'd prefer to go to somewhere chilled out like Soul Cafe, and listen to great music all night long. That's another reason I wish it was still the Sixties or Seventies - my paternal Grandparents have great tales of being young then and seeing Cream, The Animals and countless other incredible bands on nights out. They were mods who used to party with Ossie Clark and Pattie Boyd (yes, I've seen photos). My step-grandmother has memories of going out to discos and having a blast, much to her father's irritation. I'd love to go out during that era. That is the music that can get me dancing, the music that thrills me and electrifies me. I'd much rather go out dancing like they did in the 1960s. This whole video is worth a watch, but the part I'm referencing begins at roughly 7:35 minutes in. Imagine shopping in a groovy boutique then going straight through to dance?
Mind you, my post isn't about dancing, or the 1960s. It's about the lack of freedom everyone seems to be willing to allow me. At the end of the day, how much I choose to give up control of my own life is up to me. It is true that while they try to enforce themselves and their preferred life paths upon me, they cannot occupy my mind and make me do what they want, so I cannot blame them entirely. But I wouldn't mind them backing off a little and giving me room to breathe.
I love Christmas. You might even call me a Christmas addict. I began wearing my Santa jumper in October and had planned all my festive activities by September. Hours are spent admiring holiday images on Pinterest, and listening to Phil Spector's Christmas Album on vinyl (the 1972 Apple reissue, of course!)
But the lack of actual warmth this summer, plus looking at these images from our family holiday in 2011, has made me crave a nice, hot summer!
PS: I've completely failed on the Recipe of the Month front. I'll try to restart it, but it's difficult at uni. Especially given that I hate being in the kitchen here haha. But I made the nicest banana cake while I was at home for reading week, so perhaps I'll write that up.
I love Halloween. It's a fun holiday that allows you to get your creative hat on, but I wasn't really feeling it this year. I just want Christmas already! So I left my costume choice until just before the party, buying random things throughout the week with the intention of figuring out what I could make from it on the night.
I decided to go as Ophelia, the Hamlet character as painted by John Everett Millais. I also decided I wanted to be a zombie. On top of that, I wanted to wear a blue wig. So in the end, I went as a sort of Ophelia/zombie/Coraline hybrid.
I didn't have anything resembling the romantic, extremely old fashioned dress Ophelia wears, so I just wore a general floral dress to represent the flowers in the water. I wore a flower garland with a large butterfly and berries threaded into it, as I imagine that you'd have all sorts of things in your hair if you floated in the water for an extended period of time. I also put plastic spiders in my hair and crawling up my dress.
